Restoration
by turquoisefox
Summary: Marth is showing signs of healing, but something upsets Kyree. Mild shounen-ai.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Basically, if you recognize a character or place name, then I don't own it, 'k? That's kind of the point of fanfiction, and I don't even know if these things are even necessary....Ok, I'll shut up in just a minute, promise. You people thought I wrote only comedy? THINK AGAIN! 

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Prince Marth of Altea stood on the balcony outside his room, lost in thought. He stared out at what had once been a grand city, but was now ruins. He may have chased out the invaders and regained his rightful place as prince, but that still didn't solve the problem of the state of the kingdom. War had torn Altea apart. Much of it was little more than heaps of rubble and charred fields. Food was scarce, and many people had died during the war and its aftermath. Marth sighed heavily. Thinking about these things always depressed him. He'd done as much as he could to help, but money was short ever since the wars started. If only there was something he could do to speed up the process of rebuilding.....

  
  


Marth felt his melancholy quickly being replaced by anger. Why did this have to happen? Why did his people have to suffer? Why, why, why? He felt the urge to punch the wall, to destroy something. Marth clenched his fists, trying to control himself. He knew there was a less harmful way to take out his anger. He headed to the training yard, where the only things that would be hurt by his anger were wood and cloth dummies. 

  
  


Swinging his sword wildly, Marth pretended the training dummies were the armies responsible for the sad state of his beloved country. If only he could get his hands on them! He hacked off cloth heads, and sliced open straw filled bodies. Though normally peaceful in nature, this served as a sort of therapy for the troubled prince. He had to take out his rage on something, and at least no living beings were actually harmed. Marth often thought it was more the activity than the destruction that helped soothe his anger. "Maybe I should find a less violent way to keep myself busy," he murmured aloud. Despite the his last comment, he continued furiously slashing at the helpless dummies until he'd worked himself into a heavy sweat. Looking at the beat-up dummies, he whispered to himself, "This reminds me of that sandbag at the tournament after Roy and I were through with it." 

  
  


The tournament Marth was referring to, was of course, the Super Smash Bros. tournament he'd participated in roughly a year ago. He and his new friend Roy had indeed slashed the sandbag until it was beyond recognition and had to be replaced. Marth smiled at the memory of the tournament, one of the few pleasant ones he'd had since his exile and the start of the wars. However, when he returned, the dismal conditions at home depressed him even more. Marth often wondered what his friends were up to, and hoped they weren't as miserable as he was.

  
  


There was little left to do here, with most of the dummies destroyed. Marth turned back toward the castle, mentally noting to repair those dummies tomorrow. It would give him something constructive to do, some way to keep his mind of everything. He was simply too tired to even consider it now. Lately, Marth noticed he did not have the energy he'd had before. He wondered if this were somehow connected to his constant despair.

  
  
  
  


Once in his chambers, Marth hung his sword back on the wall, where it served as a decoration when not in use. Glancing around the room, he felt the guilt creep in. True, Marth no longer lived in the kind of luxury he was used to before, but he was still better off than the rest of the kingdom. He shook his head, as if the action would somehow shake off the guilt as well. It didn't work. The guilt continued building when he thought of how he'd failed to keep the invaders out, how he'd failed to vanquish their armies sooner, and most recently, how he was failing to improve his people's lives. Rationally, he knew he shouldn't blame himself, but somewhere in his mind, something kept nagging at him, saying there was a way he could have prevented it all.....

  
  


Marth grabbed his forehead in aggravation. Stop it, stop it, it's not my fault, he screamed mentally at the part of his brain urging the guilty feelings. He was developing regular headaches from worrying so much, and felt one coming on right now. Marth was ready to start banging his head against the wall in frustration-frustration at himself for not being able to control these feelings. It was making the whole situation worse.

  
  


A servant tapped Marth on the shoulder, providing an appreciated distraction from his torment. "Something wrong, highness?" the young man asked.

"No, nothing. I'm just tired," Marth lied. He couldn't let anyone know the truth. The people looked to him to be strong, and if they saw otherwise, they might lose hope.

  
  


The servant knew better than to believe him, but said nothing. "Your bath is ready," he said simply.

  
  


This was another welcome relief. Perhaps a soak in the tub would help Marth relax. "Thank you, Shondar," he said, following the servant to the bathing room.

  
  


Marth stood silently, patiently while two serving men removed his sweaty clothes. As it was lifted over his head, Marth noticed a small hole in his tunic. Can't be helped, he thought. There were more important things to worry about than the condition of his clothes. Besides, it would go nicely with the torn knee in his breeches. His habit of wild sword-swinging was obviously taking its toll.

  
  


Marth sank into the steaming water, faintly hoping it would literally drown his sorrows. He leaned back, closing his gray-blue eyes. Darkness was a slight comfort because it shut out all the things that it pained him to see. He had learned this early on, as it allowed him to briefly pretend everything was all right. Marth tried to concentrate on the nothingness before him, until Shondar poured a jug of water over his head, snapping him back to reality. Marth peered through his now-damp bangs at Shondar, then shut his eyes once more, only this time to keep out the soap. Though once vain about his hair, Marth no longer even cared if it was clean or not. Luckily for everyone else, his servants did. In this distracted state, it was quite possible that Marth might forget to eat as well.

  
  


"Your Highness is awfully quiet this evening," Shondar remarked as he began scrubbing Marth's back. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, I already told you," he replied, agitated. Shondar sensed the irritation in the prince's voice and said nothing more. Marth addressed his servants once more. "If you don't mind, would you leave? I wish to be alone for a little while." The two servants nodded and exited.

  
  


Marth rested his head against the side of the tub, sighing. Total relaxation seemed like a thing of the distant past. Still, fatigue overcame him, and he dozed off.

  
  


How long he slept, Marth didn't know. Next thing he knew, Shondar was gently shaking him. "Huh? Oh, it's you," he mumbled sleepily. "I'm ready to get out now." He stepped into the sheet-like towel Shondar held for him. In his younger, happier days, Marth would have shaken his hair like a dog in order to wet Shondar. Now, though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed, and even a smile was rare.

  
  


Once he'd dried himself and Shondar had helped him into his nightshirt, Marth padded across the carpet to his bed. Even though his dreams were often haunted by war and death, sleep was the closest thing to release Marth could hope for. He noticed a letter on his bedside table, and picked it up. When did this arrive? Judging by the seal, it came from Hyrule.

  
  


He studied the letter carefully. It mentioned an upcoming visit from the Prince and Princess of Hyrule. He knew Zelda from the tournament. She was everything a typical princess wasn't-independent, loud, and a bit on the mischievous side. While at the tournament, she was his best friend besides Link and Roy.

  
  


But who was this prince the letter referred to? Zelda was an only child, so he couldn't be her brother. This could only mean one thing-she had gotten married sometime since the tournament. To whom, Marth wondered. He had heard nothing about it, that was for sure. "I hope her father didn't force her into this," Marth said to himself. "He better not be a jerk, either. Zelda deserves to be happy. I guess I'll just have to see when they arrive." With that thought, Marth slid into his bed, hoping for sleep to come quickly.

  
  


Sleep indeed came quickly, but not painlessly. Marth awoke sweating and breathing heavily from a nightmare. As usual, he'd dreamed of raging battles, huge fires sweeping the land....and Nadia. Her bloodied, suffering face had stared at him for many nights since her death. And, just like every other time he dreamed of Nadia, Marth found tears trickling down his cheeks. He cried often, though no one knew about it. He wept for himself, for Nadia, for his family, for the people of Altea. Why had everyone and everything he loved been taken from him? He buried his face in the pillows and cried himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Zelda stared out the carriage window. Who knew watching the countryside go by would be so heart-wrenching? The current state of Altea looked far worse in person than when Marth had described it to her. Zelda noticed a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She closed the window. She'd seen enough. The burned-out fields, empty streets, and demolished buildings reminded her of Hyrule when Ganondorf had taken over. This place was too quiet. Since her arrival, Zelda had seen few signs of life in this war-torn country.

  
  


Zelda's husband slept beside her, head resting on her shoulder. No point waking him, she reasoned. It might be best to spare him these horrible sights. 

  
  


***********

  
  


Meanwhile, Marth found himself aimlessly wandering one of the few sections of the palace gardens that had not been destroyed. He was thankful this particular area was still intact, as it held many precious memories. He currently stood by the swing he'd spent many hours playing on as a child. Marth sat down on it, finding it still held his weight. He let it drift back and forth, his feet dragging the ground. At this point in his life, Marth no longer cared if someone caught him doing something silly like sitting on a child's swing.

  
  


Marth gazed across the grass, his eyes fixing on a small wooden bench. He remembered this bench well. When he was small, his mother often sat there, holding him on her lap. Marth sighed at the remembrance of his mother. How she'd doted on him! He couldn't remember a single time in his childhood when she'd failed to kiss him goodnight or comfort him when he cried. Like everyone else, Marth thought bitterly, war had taken his mother from him too soon.

  
  


This garden held more recent memories, too. He'd often brought Nadia here. They had spent whole afternoons strolling along the garden path, talking and admiring the foliage.Sometimes, they'd sit in silence on the bench, cuddling. Nadia often buried her face in her lover's tunic, while he stroked her silky black hair. All this seemed an eternity ago, though Nadia had only been dead for a little over a year.

  
  


Even Marth's happiest memories had the ability to sadden him when he remembered those he'd shared them with were gone. He felt the all-too-familiar tears return to his eyes. Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats distracted Marth from his grief. A carriage had entered the gates. Marth stood up, dried his eyes, and headed off to see who had arrived.

  
  


He found a familiar face awaiting him. "Ah, Zelda! Always a pleasure to see you!" He grasped her hand.

  
  


"Marth, it's been too long!" she smiled back at him.

  
  


"I heard you were recently married. Where's your husband?" Marth inquired.

  
  


Zelda sighed in mock disgust. "Is he still asleep? Wait right there and I'll wake him." She climbed back into the carriage.

  
  


After a few seconds, Marth heard a voice mumble, "Why did you wake me up? Are we there already? All right, I'm coming." Zelda exited the carriage once more, and Marth was shocked to see another familiar person following her.

"Link?! Is that you?" Marth cried incredulously. "You're Zelda's husband?"

  
  


"Why is that such a surprise?" Link asked. "I thought my relationship with her was pretty obvious."

  
  


"It was," Marth replied. "I think everyone at that tournament knew you were a couple." He turned to Zelda. "I was afraid your father might have forced you to marry someone against your will."

  
  


"No, no," she assured him. "My father promised long ago he wouldn't do that. Anyway, he likes Link."

  
  


"I thought you'd heard about our marriage sooner," Link added. "But with the way things are here....." he gestured toward the damaged city, his voice trailing slightly before he found the right words, ".....anything could have happened to that announcement. You might even receive it after we've already left." 

  
  


"It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're happy, and also that you're here," Marth said. "Come here, you!" he shouted in a rare deviation from his usual serious nature. He grabbed Link in a headlock, and gave him a huge noogie. Unfortunately, Marth didn't notice something....

  
  


"OW!" he cried, rubbing his sore knuckles. "You've got a hard head!" Just then, he noticed Link was wearing a headpiece similar to Zelda's, though it appeared thicker. "HA! Looks like you can't call me 'tiara boy' any more!" 

  
  


"I never called you that!" Link protested. "Captain Falcon made up that nickname. Remember, we retaliated by getting everyone to call him 'Captain Fathead' for the rest of the tournament?" By now, Zelda was about to fall over laughing.

  
  


"How could I forget?" Marth smirked. His tone then changed to a more serious one. "Is this a political or a social visit?" 

  
  


"A bit of both, I guess," Zelda responded. "My father was supposed to meet with you, but he hurt his back and sent us in his place." She handed him an official-looking document. "My father drew up this treaty. Signing it will make Altea and Hyrule formal allies."

  
  


"What caused your father to decide he wanted to do this?" Marth asked, curious.

  
  


"After Link and I returned from the tournament, we told my father everything you said about conditions in Altea. All three of us agreed that we wanted to help."

  
  


Marth was touched by the kindness of his friends. "I see nothing wrong with signing this. Our countries have never been enemies, and at times like these, alliances are crucial."

  
  


"Don't you want some time to think about this first?" Link asked.

  
  


"Why would I need to?"

  
  


"I dunno," Link shrugged. "It just seems like agreements like these take forever to negotiate."

  
  


"Actually," Marth responded, "I've been hoping to form an alliance with Hyrule for quite some time now, so I actually have given it some thought. Besides, it couldn't hurt anything. As soon as I find something to write with, I'll show you around."

  
  


As his friends followed him inside, Marth added, "You might want to avoid the eastern wing of the castle. It's....caved in and full of debris," he gestured sadly toward the ruined portion of the building. "One day, I hope to have it repaired, but there are more important things to do right now." He continued inside, his guests close behind. Marth hoped the dismal state of the country and his own despair wouldn't ruin make their stay a miserable one.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Would have had this up sooner, but there was a !@#$%^& power surge.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I'm aware I took Link and Zelda out of the picture quickly, but this was because I changed the focus of the story from Marth's friendships to his personal despair and healing.

  
  


Two weeks later....

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He had put on a convincing act, indeed.

  
  


Throughout their entire stay, Link and Zelda saw no indication of Marth's constant state of depression. He had remained cheerful most of those past two weeks, the only sign that could possibly betray the truth being occasional comments on how he wished his kingdom wasn't in such a deplorable state. Of course, that could have only meant, as Link and Zelda assumed, that Marth cared deeply for his people. Though this assumption was correct, it was not nearly enough to reveal what was truly going through the prince's tortured mind. 

  
  


Marth hated hiding things from his friends. It was as bad as lying. However, he hated even more the idea of burdening them with his personal problems. He was sure they had enough to worry about without having to know what he was going through. There was nothing they could do to ease his pain.

  
  


Watching the carriage disappear into a distance clouded with dust kicked up by the horses, Marth whispered to himself, "Alone again, I guess." Though he felt nothing could take away his sorrow completely, having guests at least cheered him a little bit. 

  
  


He found himself suddenly thinking of Nadia. Not again, he thought, knowing all too well that grief would soon follow. He fought it as hard as he could, but in the end, as always, thoughts of his beloved caused him to succumb to melancholy. Why did she have to die? The war was almost over at the time of her death, and had she just lived a little longer.....

  
  


Marth began mentally kicking himself for what he'd never gathered the courage to do. He'd just kept telling himself he'd do it after the war ended, but by then it was too late. The familiar regret overcame him. Would he ever forgive himself for not asking Nadia to marry him? 

  
  


"If only I'd been braver," he sighed. Marth felt that if he'd married Nadia, things might somehow be different. Maybe she'd even still be alive. If not, she would at least have known how deeply he loved her.

  
  


A sparrow alighted on a nearby branch, chirping happily. "Go away!" Marth yelled, waving his arms to frighten the bird. He simply couldn't deal with having such a seemingly joyful creature near him while he suffered so much. No sooner had it flown away, he felt like an idiot for behaving so ridiculously. "That was stupid," he scolded himself softly. 

  
  


On the subject of stupid, Marth had never completely understood what had possessed his enemies to invade in the first place. It was an addiction to power, he supposed, yet he never really comprehended why power did such things to people. Whatever made foreign rulers decide to attempt to take over other lands? Did they think it was acceptable to barge in and start looting, destroying things, and killing people? Or did they simply not care? Marth sighed heavily and headed back inside. Maybe a distraction would come up.

*****

Short, yes, but expect more very soon. (probably tomorrow) Please be aware that future chapters may possibly contain shounen-ai/yaoi/ whatever-you-want-to-call-it. (I don't intend to portray Marth as gay, though.) 


	4. Chapter 4

He had wanted distraction, but found none. Everything was quiet, which left Marth alone with his thoughts on the subject of war.

  
  


On reaching his rooms, Marth found a hot supper waiting for him. He sat down and began to eat slowly, still thinking. Like most everything else he did, he usually ate alone. Since the war, there had been no banquets, no parties, and no dancing. Marth's soul was too broken to dance anyway.

  
  


He felt something brush against his leg. Looking down at the source, Marth saw a large hound looking up at him expectantly and wagging its tail. "Hey, you've already had your supper. Let me eat mine," he mock-scolded the dog. The hound put on a 'pathetic puppy' face and continued to stare at Marth, tail thumping against the ground. "Oh all right," Marth told the dog. "Take this and stop acting neglected." He handed the dog a bit of bread crust, which it immediately devoured.

  
  


Marth's thoughts returned to war. Why did people forget to see their enemies as fellow human beings? Is that what made soldiers feel they had the right to murder innocent people? Battles were bad enough, but when civilians were being unmercifully massacred, that was too much. It was this hated mentality that had taken Nadia from him. Things like this made Marth wish to die, to be away from this corrupted world. If it weren't for his duties as a prince, he would likely have taken his own life long ago.

  
  


Once he'd finished eating, Marth felt the dog's head resting on his knee, which pulled him away from the dark depths of his mind. He absently patted the canine's head, then placed his empty plate on the floor. "Is that what you want?" he asked. As if in answer, the hound began licking the plate greedily. Greedily, Marth thought, the same way corrupt leaders try to conquer everything they can. Like hungry dogs, their armies devour everything in their path. For such rulers, there was no 'enough,' and certainly no 'too much'. They conquered until it killed them. Marth wondered if a dog could kill itself by eating. 

  
  


Marth yawned. All this fretting made him sleepy. Yet knowing his usual sleeping troubles, he headed straight for the small table beside his bed and placed a key in the lock on its single drawer. Turning the key, he slid the drawer open and reached inside, pulling out a small vial. He then proceeded to pour a small amount of its contents in his cup, mixing it with the wine that still remained. Swallowing it, Marth grimaced at the bitter taste. He had began taking this sleeping drug shortly after Nadia's death not only as an insomnia remedy, but to provide an escape whenever his problems became too much. Nightmares were merely a risk he would have to take.

  
  


A few minutes passed. Marth felt his eyelids grow heavy as the effects of the sleeping drug sank in. Yawning and blinking, he pulled off his tunic and breeches, then crawled into bed. He fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

*****

  
  


Koryth sighed heavily as he pushed open the heavy door to the prince's chambers. He knew what was about to come over him, but not why. It hadn't always been like this. He'd been Marth's servant for nearly three years and never felt anything, so why now? He sighed again and entered. 

  
  


He found, to his surprise, the young prince already in bed, a beam of moonlight shining through the window onto his sleeping form. For once, Koryth thought, he looked peaceful. Prince Marth's concealment of his feelings may have everyone else fooled, but he knew better.

It was obvious to Koryth how he suffered. 

  
  


Perhaps it was his pity for the prince that brought about this new and somewhat disturbing change in himself. One day, he suddenly realized the urge to take Marth into his arms and comfort him, to tell him everything would be all right. Of course, he could hardly act upon this urge, and it had led to longing. Without warning, the longing to comfort became the longing to touch as well. 

  
  


This longing came into play once again as Koryth stared at the sleeping prince. He seemed so beautiful bathed in the softly glowing moonlight. For a few moments, Koryth stood, watching Marth's quiet breathing. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to be near Marth. Silently and cautiously, Koryth approached the prince's bedside. 

  
  


"Are you awake?" he asked softly. There was no answer. Koryth knew of the sleeping potion Marth often used and figured he'd probably taken some that night. He also knew that it was a very strong drug, and Marth would be difficult to wake.

  
  


Koryth gazed longingly at Marth. He wore only a brief pair of undershorts, leaving most of his athletic form fully visible, as he'd not pulled the covers past his knees. How he yearned to touch Marth's soft-looking skin. Then, a realization struck him. Why couldn't he, just this once, give in to his yearning? No one would find out. Shaking, he placed a finger on Marth's cheek, gently stroking it. His skin was even softer than Koryth had imagined. He slowly let his finger trail from Marth's cheek to his neck, then placed his entire palm on the prince's chest. He left it there, feeling his heartbeat and breathing, which was somehow comforting. 

  
  


He wanted to get even closer, to snuggle close to Marth and keep the lonely prince company. If he held him close and nuzzled his neck, would it soothe his pain, or would he be frightened? Perhaps that was too much, at least for now. Instead, he let his eyes focus on Marth's slightly parted lips. Should I, Koryth thought. Would it do any harm? Gathering his courage, he placed a tender kiss on the desired location. Marth didn't stir.

  
  


Koryth was a bit shocked at what he'd just done. He stood, motionless except for a few quick glances around the room, fearful he'd somehow be caught. Once he calmed down, he focused his attention back on the sleeping prince. He looked innocent, completely unaware of what had happened. Koryth sighed, knowing it would be best to leave now. Before exiting, he paused, whispering, "You're not as alone as you think. I don't know how or why, but I love you, Prince Marth." With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

*****

A few notes from the author: Koryth was the unnamed servant from the first chapter. Yes, it appears he's got a crush on Marth. Should I remove the second half of this chapter? Oh, and I promise the plot of this story will speed up shortly. I accredit the idea to put some mild shounen-ai in this partly to some of the other authors, namely xan-vallen.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I recently saw the Fire Emblem anime (wow, can't believe WordPerfect actually recognizes the word 'anime'.) I will try to incorporate the information I learned from there, as well as various sites on the 'net into this fic. Hey, Empress, you know you read my mind? And don't worry, Lito, Koryth is not an old guy. He's around 19. Blah blah blah, disclaimer's the same as it's always been, now maybe I should shut up and get on with it. One more thing: Ellis is Marth's older sister. Don't ask me why, I know that sounds like a boy's name.

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Koryth couldn't sleep. Guilt racked the young man's mind unmercifully. He longed to confess what he'd done, but to whom? Marth? That wasn't a good idea. Though known to be gentle and understanding, the prince also had a bad temper at times. Koryth didn't know how he'd react to the news, and preferred not to find out. Who else would listen? Shondar was his closest friend besides Marth, but confessing everything to him might be an even worse idea. Shondar was one of Marth's oldest friends and most loyal servants. He would probably become enraged and attack Koryth if he knew his friend had been taken advantage of. Koryth wanted nothing more at that moment to turn back time and erase his deeds of those few minutes. 

  
  


An idea suddenly struck him. Maybe if he apologized, the incident would be forgotten and his mind would finally be at peace. The thought of telling Marth frightened him so much, he couldn't possibly say anything while he was awake. Since I kissed him while he slept, Koryth tried to reason, it's only appropriate I apologize while he's asleep. 

  
  


He crept into Marth's bedchamber, as quietly as he had before. The prince still slept, curled on his side. To Koryth, he appeared almost angelic, so innocent and unaware of what had happened to him. Koryth approached the side of the bed cautiously. He waited a moment, nervously awaiting Marth to hear him and wake. After what seemed like an eternity had passed, the whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that." As he was about to leave, Koryth turned back, realizing that Marth's blankets still only covered his lower legs. Koryth gently pulled them to the prince's chest, saying softly, " I don't want you to catch a chill." Resisting the urge to touch Marth again, he exited the room, still fearful someone would notice.

********

The next afternoon, rain poured from the sky in seemingly endless torrents. Marth didn't seem to notice as he sat in a corner of his balcony, watching silently. Rainy days seemed the best for thinking. Marth found the soft patter of the raindrops comforting somehow as the familiar subjects that plagued his life daily returned. He wrapped his cloak around himself tightly, ignoring the cold dampness of the rain. 

  
  


His thoughts drifted to his family. They were all dead now, his mother, his father, and older sister. All victims of war, all taken from him forever.

  
  


"Mama....Papa....Ellis.....why?" he whispered to himself, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes.

  
  


Marth let the memories come freely. Unfortunately, what came to his mind was not the most pleasant of memories. He thought of his father and all the disagreements they'd had. If only he'd been able to reach an understanding with him. That is, if it was even possible for his stubborn father to listen.

  
  


Marth's father, Cornelius, had a fixed idea of what he thought his son should be like-tough, strong,...... and merciless. The gentle young prince didn't quite fit that profile, however, angering his father greatly. Marth remembered numerous arguments between his parents regarding his upbringing. Cornelius believed his son weak and effeminate, and blamed his wife and daughter for making him "soft". Sometimes, he was even physically violent. Marth well remembered his father's jeering: "Weakling...fool....pushover....disgrace...coward. Compassion is for the weak. If you don't learn to be a man, you'll be a pathetic ruler indeed!" He often followed these rants with a smack or a shove. Hero though he'd become, Marth still wondered if his father would be disappointed in him were he alive.

  
  


Luckily, Marth had his mother and sister to comfort him. They were as loving as he was, and disapproved of Cornelius's cruelty. If it weren't for them, Marth might have let his father's taunts break his spirit.

  
  


The rain beat down even harder now, covering the sounds of the approaching footsteps. Marth nearly jumped when a hand was placed on his shoulder, then relaxed when he saw it was only Shondar, accompanied by Koryth. He smiled at the two servants, relieved. Had battle made him paranoid?

  
  


Shondar spoke. "Highness, why are you out here in the rain?"

  
  


"You might catch cold," Koryth added.

  
  


"I was just....thinking," Marth answered, not wanting to say what he'd been thinking about. The two servants helped Marth to his feet, and he followed them inside. He shivered slightly once out of the rain, dripping a bit.

  
  


This was not unnoticed by either servant. "You look cold, my prince," Shondar commented. Marth merely shook his head, though it was obviously a lie.

  
  


"Would you care for a hot bath to warm you?" Koryth inquired.

  
  


"No, I'm all right, but I thank you for your concern," Marth said softly. "I'll be all right."

  
  


The two serving men proceeded to help Marth out of his wet clothes and into a soft velvet robe, then left him to himself. Marth sighed softly, grateful at least to be warm and dry. He then flopped down on his bed for a nap, exhausted and depressed. The sound of the rain soon lulled the distressed prince to sleep.

  
  


He awoke with the sudden urge to leave the castle.

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I'm going to leave it at that for now, as I don't know if I have time to type any more. What will Marth find when he leaves the castle? BWAHAHA, semi-cliffhanger. Expect more within the next day or so. You know you love being kept waiting, right? Yes, Marth's father is a big, mean jerk in the anime. (Gave me nightmares, *shudders*) I wasn't too serious when I said I'd take this down. I got reviews anyway, so it doesn't matter.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well, here's another chapter. Things are gonna get interesting.....

Darkwulfe, which Bloody Roar character does Koryth remind you of? I have that game, and don't see the connection.

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Marth's plans to leave the castle were interrupted when he glanced out the window. Not only was the rain still pouring down, but the sun had long since set. How long had he slept?

  
  


He'd dreamed of his family. He and Ellis were small children, seated on their mother's lap. She was singing softly to them, when their father suddenly burst into the room. 

  
  


"What are you doing? You baby our son too much!"

  
  


"He's only three years old," his mother protested.

  
  


"That's old enough for you to stop that!" He slapped her face, causing her to cry out. "I don't care what you do with Ellis, but no son of mine is going to be a mama's boy!" He yanked Marth away from his mother, stormed out, and the dream ended.

  
  


Marth had never actually seen his father hit his mother, but it was in his nature to do so if he pleased. His father had, however, said things much like he did in this dream. The dream greatly bothered Marth, and he couldn't shake the feeling away. It was one of those dreams that lingers for awhile after it ends.

  
  


Not long after Marth awoke, the door opened. A servant girl entered, bearing a tray of delicious-smelling food. She bowed slightly, saying "Would you like your supper now, Your Highness?"

  
  


"Please," he replied. He was becoming quite hungry, and food was just the thing to make him forget his nightmare. The girl placed the tray on a table, then exited. 

  
  


No sooner had Marth began to eat, a dog appeared from its hiding place under his bed. It was the same hound that had begged for food the night before.

  
  


"You again, Bria?" he asked, shaking his head. "Little furry beggar."

  
  


Bria placed her snout on Marth's knee, looking at him pleadingly. Her dark eyes seemed expectant. She knew her master always gave in.

  
  


Sure enough, he sighed and muttered, "You eat too much, you know that?" and handed the dog a bit of meat. Bria devoured it quickly, then resumed begging for more. Dogs were so easy to please, Marth thought. Feed one, and it will love you forever.

___________________

Koryth still longed to comfort Marth. Seeing the prince distressed only caused Koryth to become distressed as well. This evening, Koryth found him seated on a couch, already dressed for bed and scratching his dog behind the ears. He seemed distracted though, like his mind was somewhere else. Seeing Marth petting the dog gave Koryth and idea.

  
  


He boldly approached him. "You look like you need to relax, Highness. Shall I rub your back?"

  
  


This strange offer startled him a little, yet Koryth sounded like he sincerely wanted to help. "All right," Marth responded. "It might ease the stiffness."

  
  


Koryth couldn't believe his luck. Not only would he be allowed to touch Marth, he also had the opportunity to comfort the one who was so dear to him. He began massaging the prince's shoulders. Bria jumped off the couch, then trotted across the room and effortlessly leapt onto the bed.

  
  


Marth closed his eyes, attempting to clear his mind. He concentrated on one thing- having his back rubbed. He still did not know Koryth felt anything more than friendship toward him. When Koryth finished, he stood and stretched, yawning. "Thank you, Koryth," he said simply. "That feels better." He crossed the room to his bed and moved the dog off his pillows. He then allowed Koryth to tuck him in and close the bed's thick curtains, still unaware the servant was behaving oddly lately. Bria curled up at the foot of the bed, ready to protect her master should anything happen. Marth heard Koryth say "Sleep well" and leave the room. He shut his eyes, determined to leave the castle tomorrow.

__________________

I never got to finish this chapter today. I guess I'll leave you hanging a little longer...but I'll get the rest done ASAP. School starts tomorrow, but I'll still have time afterward. I promise, the plot accelerates in the next part. Can you bear with me til then?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Back again, with what was supposed to be the second part of the last chapter. I can tell you, I enjoy writing this fic a lot more than most of the assignments I get in school, and there aren't any people irritating me while I'm writing it, either. This stays up, don't worry. (doubt I would've taken it down anyway.) Let's just say there's a big turning point here. You'll see soon enough. *hyper, restrains self from writing silliness* I know you'd all be REALLY angry if I turned this into a comedy.

__________________

  
  


The next afternoon, Marth finally had an opportunity to leave the castle. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he changed into a simple cotton tunic and trousers. He saddled his horse with the plainest tack he could find. He mussed his hair, and tangled his horse's mane and tail. For a final touch, Marth rubbed a bit of dirt on his face and the horse. He thought it quite a convincing disguise.

  
  


The city seemed surprisingly busy. Despite the damage it had taken, the people were returning to their everyday lives as best they could. Marth looked all around. A few shopkeepers had reopened their stores. Children ran and yelled happily, playing in the street. Dogs wandered loose, sniffing around for anything that might be edible. Various craftsmen were at work. Though many of the buildings were still partially or totally ruined and many of its inhabitants had died, the city was slowly coming back to life.

  
  


As he rode on, Marth saw more and more people going about their business as if there had never been a war at al, even in the poorer parts of the cityl. True, the evidence showing otherwise was visible, but they seemed to be trying to ignore it. Signs of poverty were evident, yet everyone appeared to be trying to make the best of things. They seemed, in fact, happy. Were the Alteans, then, not suffering the way he had thought? Marth wondered why if others were healing, why wasn't he?

  
  


He was distracted by a ball whizzing past his head. He turned in the direction it came from to see a group of five young children playing in a burnt-out building.

  
  


"Your aim stinks, Jamie!" he heard a boy holler. "Didja see where the ball went?"

  
  


"Over that guy's head!" called a skinny blond boy, evidently Jamie, gesturing toward Marth.

  
  


"Hey, mister!" cried a red-headed girl with a missing front tooth. "Know where our ball went?"

  
  


Marth grinned and jumped off his horse to retrieve it. He tossed it back, and Jamie caught it.

  
  


"Thanks, mister!" he yelled back. "Sorry I almost hit you!"

  
  


"It's all right," Marth assured. He had noticed the children appeared malnourished and suddenly had an idea. He rummaged through his saddlebags, commenting, "You children look hungry, would you like something to eat?" He pulled out a bundle that contained a loaf of bread, some cheese, an apple, and salted meat. Sure, it was meant to be his lunch, but these children looked as if they needed it far more than he did.

  
  


The whole group stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. A stranger had just offered them food! They couldn't believe their luck. The red-haired girl, apparently the boldest of the five, was first to speak.

  
  


"You'd really do that for us?" she asked softly.

  
  


"Of course," Marth replied kindly, handing her the bundle and sat down on the ground beside her.

  
  


"Thank you," the girl practically whispered. "We don't always have enough food for our whole family. Sometimes, Mama doesn't eat just to make sure we have something." 

  
  


Marth was saddened and confused. He had just seen what he thought were signs of improvement, yet this girl had just said her family was starving. Just what were the conditions in Altea, he wondered.

  
  


The other children had flocked around their sister, peering at the food in wonder. The littlest child, a girl of about four, wrapped her small arms around Marth's neck. He smiled and patted her head. The girl giggled. Meanwhile, they had begun to divide the food amongst themselves.

  
  


"I wish I could have brought you more," Marth remarked. "That doesn't look like near enough for all of you."

  
  


"No, that's fine," one of the boys said through a mouthful of bread. "Any food at all is good."

  
  


"Yeah, and no one's ever been nice enough to give us any," the redhead added, smiling.

  
  


"If I can, I promise I'll come back with more food for your family, maybe others too. Do you need me to stay for any reason?" he asked, willing to help these poor children in any possible way.

  
  


"Nah, were all right," Jamie said. "We can pretty much take care of ourselves."

  
  


Marth nodded. "I hope to see you again!" he called to the children as he mounted his horse.

  
  


He chose to ride a bit further, to think about what had just happened. How many other people were going hungry? What was it like to go through childhood wondering if you'd have enough to eat each day? Food had never been a problem for the prince. 

  
  


He had gradually been riding out from the direction of the city. Soon, Marth found himself in an area a bit outside the city, where there were no buildings or people. Everything seemed oddly quiet away from the city noises. Marth rode on more slowly, cautious for some unknown reason.

  
  


Without warning, Marth heard a yell. Before he could react, Marth felt something slam into him from the side, knocking him off his horse. 

He found himself pinned to the ground by a large man holding a dagger. Looking up, Marth guessed that his attacker had probably been lurking in the branches of a nearby tree, waiting for an unwary passerby to pounce on.

  
  


The man holding Marth down was quickly joined by three others, all of whom looked as mean as the first. They were, he guessed, bandits. Maybe if they saw he had nothing valuable, they'd leave him alone.

  
  


Marth's assailant snarled and placed the dagger to his throat. "Hand over anything you've got!"

  
  


"I have nothing," Marth responded, trying not to let his fear show.

  
  


One of the other bandits kicked Marth in the head. "You heard him! Hand over yer stuff!"

  
  


"I am not carrying anything, valuable or not," he insisted, only to receive a punch to the face.

  
  


"Fool! If you don't wanna die, empty your pockets and saddlebags!"

  
  


"I assure you, there is nothing in either!" 

  
  


The man holding Marth down suddenly yanked him by the collar, forcing him to his feet with the dagger pressed almost into his back.

  
  


"I'm not gonna play with you. This is your last chance. Empty those bags NOW!"

He shoved Marth forward to where his frightened horse was being held by the bridle. Marth opened the bags, then held them up for the robbers to see. 

  
  


"I told you there's nothing in there!" He turned his pockets inside out as further proof he was empty-handed.

  
  


"We're not idiots," another bandit growled. "No one travels without supplies. Now where are you hiding them?"

  
  


"I'm not hiding anything, and I'm not really traveling!" Marth practically shouted.

  
  


The man with the dagger looked furious. "All right, men, if he won't cooperate, we'll have to make him!" The other three nodded at the man who was apparently their leader. 

  
  


All four of them jumped Marth at once, attacking with knives and clubs. One punched him in the gut, and the leader swiped at him with the dagger. Marth stumbled, holding his stomach and trying to catch his breath. This gave his opponents the perfect opportunity to strike. 

  
  


A blow from behind sent him sprawling to the ground. As he struggled to stand, slices from several daggers sent him back down, now bleeding. 

  
  


"Now, have you learned your lesson?" sneered the leader. 

  
  


"I'd hand over my possessions if I had any," he replied coldly, pulling himself to his feet.

  
  


"Are you stubborn, or just stupid?" yelled the bandit leader. "I see you need a little more teaching!" He swiped at Marth again, slicing him across the shoulder. He responded with a punch to the leader's cheek. This infuriated the small gang of attackers, and they once more began slashing and beating at the struggling Marth.

  
  


The violence continued for a few agonizing minutes. Marth put up as best a fight as one unarmed man could against four armed men. He attempted to jump onto his horse to flee, but one of the robbers snatched him off from behind. Suddenly, one of the others spoke up.

  
  


"This is getting ridiculous. Let's just take the horse and scram."

  
  


"Yeah, yer probably right," the leader agreed. "We ain't getting caught, 'cause this guy doesn't look like he'll be goin' anywhere for awhile." This was true. Bruised and bleeding heavily, Marth was lying on the ground, unable to get up. He watched helplessly as the thieves led his horse off, talking loudly among themselves.

  
  


His pain was incredible. Wounds covered his body, and he was too weak to move much. He wondered if he was to die here, alone. If that was his fate, he thought, would anyone find him and identify him? He couldn't bear the thought of not being interred in his family's tomb with his parents and sister. Unconsciousness flooded over him then, preventing further thought.

******

  
  


That afternoon, Kyree had decided to search for herbs to use in her healing potions. Before the war, she had been apprenticed to a healer in the city. Though her training had not been completed, many of the people living just outside the capital city sought her help for various minor problems. She was now low on a few different ingredients, but she knew they could all be found nearby. 

  
  


As she approached a patch of trees, she gripped her small sword tightly. Bandits were known to prowl the area and attack unsuspecting travelers. She knew it was foolish to wander this area without a weapon. 

  
  


Entering the little grove, she noticed hoof prints. Not overly unusual; people passed through here from time to time. What startled her was the blood on the ground. She shook her head sadly. It appeared there had been a fight, no doubt with the robbers. At first, she saw no sign of anyone. Had both thieves and victim fled? Then, she saw something that nearly made her scream aloud. A young man lay at the base of a tree, covered in blood. 

  
  


Kyree's first reaction was to assume he was dead and continue on. Then, she realized that it was possible that he might still be alive. She approached cautiously, hoping this wasn't a trick set up by a gang of bandits. Kneeling beside him, she gently took one wrist in her hands, feeling for a pulse. Somewhat surprisingly, she felt one. "I have to help him," she whispered to herself.

  
  


There was a problem. This man was far larger than Kyree, and she certainly couldn't carry him. She sighed heavily, trying to think of a solution. Drag him? No, not in his condition, that would only hurt him more. Yell for help and hope someone was nearby? That might attract attention of the wrong kind, namely robbers. Then, Kyree remembered her shape-shifting ability.

  
  


Without wasting another moment, Kyree transformed herself from a small young woman into a large warhorse. Gently lifting the wounded man with her horse's teeth, Kyree bent down and turned her head, allowing her to slide him onto her back. Standing up, she headed back toward her home as quickly as she could without dropping the unsconcious man.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I probably wouldn't have started a new chapter so soon, but only two people reviewed and this is already on page two, so it looks like I'm going to have to remind you all this fic exists. Am I going to have to threaten again to get reviews? 

  
  


__________________________

  
  


Inside the small cottage, the lights were almost too dim now for Ethan to continue his work. Only an extremely skilled tailor could sew in the dark, and Ethan doubted he had that talent. He put down the shirt he was sewing, sighing heavily. Business was slow since the war ended. So few people had enough money. His family's income had been seriously reduced after his parents had been killed. Now, Ethan had only his younger sister, Kyree, who made some occasional money curing people with her herbs and potions. A thought suddenly stuck him-where WAS she at the moment, anyway?

  
  


The sound of hoofbeats outside the door caused Ethan to become curious. He stood, leaning on his crutch. Luckily for Ethan, his trade did not require the use of his feet. His left foot had to be amputated after being crushed by an enemy's horse. Moving was difficult now, but not impossible.

  
  


Peering outside, a somewhat ludicrous sight greeted him. An enormous horse stood at the door, with a sword in its mouth. Upon closer inspection, Ethan realized this was no silly prank. The horse's rider was draped across its back, unconscious and bloody. That sword seemed familiar, too.

  
  


"Kyree, is that you?" he asked, knowing the answer. He was used to his sister altering her form. "I don't know what happened, or where that man came from, but you're not going to be able to fit inside the doorway like that."

  
  


The horse dropped the sword and snorted, incapable of human speech in this form. Ethan realized instantly what his sister wanted.

  
  


"I'll go get someone to carry him inside," Ethan said. "Is that what you want?" The horse nodded, and Ethan headed toward the nearest house as quickly as a man with a crutch could.

  
  


Kyree waited, fearing every minute help was delayed could be fatal for this unfortunate traveler. A few minutes passed, then her brother returned with two neighbors, who lifted the unconscious man off the horse's back. Kyree barely had time to change back to her true form when Ethan asked breathlessly, "What happened?"

  
  


"I was out gathering herbs," Kyree began, following her brother and neighbors inside, "when I just found him lying on the ground. My guess would be that he was attacked by a gang of thieves."

  
  


Ethan nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. They've been nothing but trouble for anyone traveling in these parts. He needs your care, Kyree."

  
  


"That's what I intend to do," she responded. Turning to her neighbors, she added, "Put him on that bed over in the corner. It belonged to my parents, but no one uses it now." They obeyed.

  
  


"Need us for anything else?" one asked.

  
  


"No, but thank you for your help. Ethan and I couldn't get him inside without your assistance."

  
  


As soon as they left, Kyree turned her attention to her patient. First, she gathered an armful of bandages, vials, bottles, and a piece of cloth and set them on the bedside table. She filled a bowl with cool water and set it beside the rest of the objects on the table before setting to work.

  
  


Kyree proceeded to carefully undress her patient. She gasped slightly when she saw he was covered in ugly cuts and bruises. She dipped the cloth in the bowl and began to wash his wounds, examining them at the same time. Once she had cleaned him, Kyree applied several different ointments and liquids to the man's wounds, then covered them in bandages. She replaced his undergarment, murmuring "No need to violate your modesty any more than I have to," then covered him with a quilt. "Wake up soon," she whispered, gently stroking his soft blue hair. 

  
  


Ethan called from the doorway, "Kyree! You left your sword outside. That's not really a good idea!"

  
  


"I knew I was forgetting something," she answered. " I'll get it. Don't give me any of your lectures."

  
  


"Kyree, you can't be careless with weapons. I've told you countless times that if you..."

  
  


"I know, I know," she interrupted. "I just had so much on my mind that I completely neglected it." She picked up the sword, carried it inside, then remarked to her brother, "You know what?"

  
  


"No, I don't know what. I can't read your mind."

  
  


Kyree sighed disgustedly at her brother's smart-assed reply. "I think our guest may not be the poor traveler he appears to be."

  
  


"Oh? Why do you figure that?" Ethan gave his sister a curious look.

  
  


" I noticed that his undergarment is unusually well-made-and from an expensive looking material. My guess is that he dressed simply to avoid attention and didn't think to make his underclothes match his disguise."

  
  


"Most people wouldn't," Ethan said dryly. "Unless of course, he's some sort of exhibitionist." 

  
  


Kyree glared. "Enough of your wiseass remarks, Ethan! Though, of course, you're right. Most people don't anticipate anyone seeing their underwear when they travel."

  
  


"This conversation is getting ridiculous. How serious are his wounds?"

  
  


"He has a few deep cuts, but most of them should heal without any problems. I think he's lost a lot of blood, though."

  
  


"Do you expect him to live?" 

  
  


"At this moment, I really don't know," she answered somewhat sadly. "All we can do is wait."

******

  
  


Marth awoke the next day in agony. The incredible pain from his wounds was almost too much to bear. He tried to sit up, only to discover he was too weak to move more than a tiny bit. He groaned softly. 

  
  


Kyree was awakened by a noise that sounded like someone in pain. She had moved her mattress next to her patient's bed in case he awoke during the night and needed her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and noticed the man she'd rescued peering curiously at her. 

  
  


"Who are you? Where am I?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  
  


______________________

Just a short chapter for now, more will come soon. Please, no flames about the underwear thing. I'm not sure why I put it in there, really.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: It's me again with my usual comments before the next chapter! I didn't update as soon as I wanted to, but I think I finally got around to it. Has Kyree's eventual purpose dawned on anyone yet? I'm not going to give away what will end up happening, nyah! Not that you want that anyway. Why are all you reviewers obsessed with underwear? Not that I mind. I like reviews!

******************

  
  


Kyree looked into the man's large blue eyes. She swore they expressed his pain, and she noticed something else, too. What was it? Loneliness? Fear? She couldn't quite tell. Instead of pondering it further, she spoke.

  
  


"I see you've awakened," she smiled at him. "Do you need anything?"

  
  


"Who are you?" he repeated.

  
  


"My name is Kyree. I found you unconscious while gathering healing herbs. What happened to you?"

  
  


Marth groaned slightly as he shifted position in the bed. "Robbers. They beat me up and stole my horse."

  
  


"I thought so," Kyree spat disgustedly. "Bandits have been a problem here lately."

  
  


"Had I known, I would have armed myself," Marth said softly.

  
  


"You were traveling unarmed?" Kyree squeaked. "Pardon me for asking, but are you extremely brave, overconfident in your fighting skills, or just plain foolish?"

  
  


"I wasn't really traveling," he explained. "I was just out riding, though I guess it was stupid of me to venture alone into an unfamiliar area, especially without a weapon."Marth wore a look of utter annoyance at himself. 

  
  


"It's not your fault if you didn't know what to expect," Kyree soothed. "Anyway, now you know who I am, so who are you?"

  
  


Marth managed a lopsided smile. "If I told you, you'd only think I was delusional from a blow to the head."

  
  


"Oh?" Kyree responded. "How ridiculous could your story be?"

  
  


"Trust me, you will not believe me," Marth insisted.

  
  


"All right, you don't have to tell me now," Kyree assured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think I should change your bandages now." She left the room, then came back with the bandages and a jar of some kind of ointment, now fully dressed. "I hope I didn't take too long."

  
  


"No, no," Marth responded. "I'm certainly not going anywhere."

  
  


Kyree sat down on the bed beside Marth and began to unwind the old bandages. Marth lay still, allowing Kyree to lift his torso onto her lap to make her task easier. He found her touch gentle and her voice calming. Kyree then spoke, "Oops, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

She exited the room once more and came back with a bowl of water and a damp cloth.

"I must keep your wounds clean," she stated. "I don't want you to get an infection."

  
  


As Kyree began cleaning his wounds, Marth spoke up. "Kyree, I can't thank you enough for saving my life."

  
  


Kyree blushed at his words. "It's nothing. I did what any decent person would do. You needed help, I provided it."

  
  


Marth studied the small woman for a moment. "How did you get me back here? You don't look like you could lift me."

  
  


Kyree merely gave a mysterious smile. "Let's just say I have my ways." She continued bathing his wounds.

  
  


Marth suddenly changed the subject. "What happened to my clothes?" he asked, gesturing to his bare chest and turning a bit red. "And did you...?"

  
  


"Ruined," Kyree answered. "My brother, Ethan, is a tailor, but he couldn't repair them. And did I what?" she asked, confused.

  
  


"Did you...remove them?" Marth asked, embarrassed. 

  
  


"I had to, to get to those awful wounds. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

  
  


"It's ok," Marth whispered. "I know you didn't mean any harm." He closed back, resting against Kyree's knee.

  
  


"I'll find something for you to wear," she promised. "Ethan's a little heavier than you, but I'm sure his clothes would fit well enough." She began applying the ointment to Marth's wounds. He winced.

  
  


"That stings...." he murmured, not opening his eyes.

  
  


"I wish I had something that didn't sting. I don't want to hurt you," she cooed. As soon as she'd finished rebandaging Marth's wounds, Kyree asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

  
  


"Please."

  
  


Kyree crossed the small house to the kitchen area. She poured some cold broth into a bowl, then grabbed a small loaf of bread. When she returned, she questioned, "Can you feed yourself?"

  
  


"I can't sit up," he answered. 

  
  


"I think you can eat this without any trouble," she said, breaking a piece of bread from the loaf and handing it to him. He chewed slowly, but managed to swallow it.

  
  


"Do you want this?" Kyree inquired once he'd finished, gesturing to the bowl. "I'll have to feed it to you, though."

  
  


"That's fine," he said softly, obviously too miserable to be proud. Kyree spooned the liquid into his mouth. Marth relaxed, letting her. When he'd finished, Kyree set the bowl aside and stood up to leave, when Marth grabbed her hand, a desperate look in his eyes. "Please, stay with me. I don't want to be alone."

  
  


Kyree sat down again, taking his hand in both of hers. "I'll stay. It must be frightening to be injured and alone in a strange place." Now comforted, Marth closed his eyes once more and fell into a light sleep. Kyree tucked the quilt around his shoulders, whispering, "Sleep well."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: After nearly a month, I resume this fanfic. I am working on another one, as you may have noticed. How come the miscellaneous anime section has no Fire Emblem fics? Somebody needs to remedy that fast!

********

Kyree sat at the table in the main room of the cottage, grinding herbs and thinking. Who was this mysterious young man she now found a part of her life, had why had he insisted she would never believe his story? Could he not be trusted? Kyree began grinding more viciously, as if her pestle was a weapon. If this man was anything like Jeron, he couldn't. That name immediately evoked anger and despair at the same time. Perhaps it would be better to think of something else. She looked around the room. Ethan was quietly mending a pair of trousers at his workbench. She could not see her patient, who was hidden by the curtain that serving as a wall around the bed.

  
  


Kyree heard a faint cry coming from the direction of the young man's bed. She dashed to his side, to find him awake and in a sweat, a terrified look on his face. "Are you all right?" she asked gently, dipping the cloth that still lay on the table into the bowl of water she'd left there. 

  
  


"I had an awful dream," he murmured as Kyree bathed his face with the cool water. "I'm thankful to be awake."

  
  


Kyree nodded. "Dreams can be frightening, especially if they're the kind that seem real. Would it help if you told me about it?"

  
  


"My parents, Ellis, Nadia.....I watched them all die...."

  
  


Kyree looked a little puzzled, but still sympathetic. "I do not know these people, but dreaming of death is never pleasant. They're obviously people you care about, too."

  
  


He managed a slight nod. "Yes. They have all been dead for quite some time now, but every little reminder is painful. Ellis was my sister, and Nadia, the woman I loved." He looked as if he was about to cry.

  
  


Kyree brushed aside his bangs tenderly. "My parents died too, during the war. Did war also take your family?"

  
  


"Yes," Marth said, barely above a whisper. "Nadia as well." He wondered why he was revealing his troubles to a near stranger, yet he was comforted by it. He could finally be honest with someone, as this girl knew nothing of his royal status. He was sure she would not mock him.

  
  


"I have also fallen in being left by one love and lost," Kyree remarked. "Jeron and I were to be married. He was the son of a wealthy merchant, yet he swore it didn't matter that I came from a poor family. Shortly before the wedding, he came knocking at the door only to say he no longer wished to marry me because he'd found someone he thought was more worthy of himself than a half-trained healer. I don't know what caused him to suddenly decide I wasn't good enough for him, but it doesn't matter anymore. He left town, and I've not seen him since." Kyree looked disgusted at the memory.

"What a horrible thing to do!" Marth cried with more enthusiasm than his weakened body could handle. He groaned and lay back. "Was there no other explanation than that?"

  
  


Kyree shook her head. "No, that was all he said. It is possible he was pressured by his haughty family to break of the engagement, or maybe taunted by his friends. Whatever the case, as I said, it doesn't matter. I don't care."

  
  


"Your voice and your face say otherwise," Marth observed.

  
  


Kyree sighed. "It still hurts," she confessed. "I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world, so if he will not love or accept me, why would anyone else?"

  
  


"Because he is a fool. I know far too many people like that. They value wealth and rank over what's in the heart. I don't understand it."

  
  


"Nor do I."

  
  


"Another thing I don't understand," he remarked, "is when you said you were only 'half-trained'. If you are not a properly trained healer, what is?"

  
  


She took a deep breath and began. "I was apprenticed to a doctor in the city. He was a good master, and I an eager pupil. But when the war broke out, he was called to serve as an army doctor, so I had to return home without completing my training. I still regret not being able to finish learning what I needed to know, but after Ethan lost his foot, I was needed here to care for him and our home. The people around here don't mind my incomplete training, though. For more serious ailments and injuries, they usually go to someone in the city for help, but I seem to suit them just fine for small afflictions."

  
  


As their conversation ended, they heard a knock at the door. "I'll get that," Ethan called, as he was seated closer to the door.

  
  


"No," Kyree responded. "I'm already up, so I'll answer." She had indeed gotten up, to get a mug of water for Marth.

  
  


The visitor turned out to be the neighbor's wife, Marisse. She was tall and slightly overweight, with frizzy blond hair and a particularly frenzied expression. She appeared out of breath. "I came here as soon as I heard the news," Marisse panted.

  
  


"What news?" Kyree asked, curious. Ethan snorted from behind her, scowling.

  
  


"You and your gossip, Marisse. Kyree, don't listen to it. Whatever she has to say is likely some wild rumor. You know very well she tends to be unbelievably innacurate."

  
  


Marisse gave him a nasty glare. "Don't pay him any attention," Kyree advised. "Come in and tell me what's so important.

  
  


"Kyree, this is serious, dangerous even. The prince has disappeared."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Read it if you want. How does a long chapter sound?

***

  
  


"Missing?" Kyree asked. "How could he be missing?"

  
  


Marisse shrugged. "I don't know. He just disappeared."

  
  


"But surely someone knows where he is?" Kyree insisted. 

  
  


"If someone did, would there be search parties roaming the countryside?" she snapped.

  
  


"Keep your voice down," Ethan hissed. "My sister has a wounded patient who needs to rest."

  
  


"Sorry," Marisse responded in a hushed tone. "Anyway, as I said, he's missing."

  
  


"We've established that," Ethan said shortly. "This sounds like just another piece of your baseless gossip. Where did you hear this?"

  
  


A somewhat proud expression crossed Marisse's chubby face. "This time, for your information, I heard it firsthand from a credible source." She smirked at Ethan, proud not only that she'd heard a juicy story before her neighbors, but also that she'd surely made a fool of Ethan.

  
  


"And just what is this 'credible source'? A bored old farmer?" He sneered at her.

  
  


"Try a palace soldier," she retorted.

  
  


"Will you stop this? You're getting loud again," Kyree scolded. "Anyway, why does this affect us, exactly?"

  
  


"Don't you see?" Marisse squealed. "With the prince gone, we'll be vulnerable to invasion again. I don't think Altea can survive another war. We could be doomed!"

  
  


"I think you're overreacting," Ethan remarked. Kyree nodded.

  
  


"We must stay calm," Kyree said. "Isn't it possible he just went somewhere to be alone?"

  
  


"You naive girl, do you really think a prince would go anywhere unescorted and without telling anyone? He could have been kidnapped!"

  
  


"If it was a kidnapping, there would have been a ransom demand. Be rational," Ethan replied to Marisse's latest worry.

  
  


"What of murder?"

  
  


"Don't you think someone would have found out by now if that was the case?" Kyree inquired.

"Not necessarily. Criminals can be tricky."

  
  


"Marisse, since when were you an expert on crime?" Ethan scoffed. "Can't you think of a less....negative explanation?"

  
  


"Well, the soldier did say that those closest to the prince speculate he went to visit the grave of his dead love. Some saw him leave the palace, but he's not returned."

  
  


"Isn't that typical of you, Marisse?" Ethan demanded. "Always making things out to be the worst they possibly can be. What you just said sounds far more likely than any of your previous explanations."

  
  


Marisse sniffed. "I don't have to stay here and be insulted! Good day!" she snapped and stomped out.

  
  


"Can't you be a little more civil to our neighbor?" Kyree sighed.

  
  


"I have no patience for her nonsense," Ethan said simply. "Didn't you have something you were doing?"

  
  


"Oh, yes!" Kyree cried. "I can't believe I let her distract me!" She filled the clay mug with water, then returned to Marth's bedside.

  
  


"What was all that about?" he asked tiredly. "I was asleep, but people started yelling and woke me."

  
  


"Nothing you need to worry about. My neighbor was gossiping and making a big deal over a situation that is hopefully not as bad as she thinks." She handed him the water, and he drank gratefully.

  
  


"What situation?"

  
  


"Don't worry yourself over it. I'll tell you if it becomes a problem, I promise."

  
  


"It sounds worse than you say. What is it? Please tell me," he pleaded."

  
  


"Will you drive yourself insane wondering if I don't tell you? All right, all right. She says the prince has disappeared."

  
  


This was the first time Marth had realized that his absence might alarm someone. "Ah," he said to himself. "Maybe it's best I finally tell you everything."

  
  


She gasped. "You KNOW something about this? So that's why you never told me who you were! You're...you're a criminal, and something horrible has happened to Prince Marth!" Kyree wailed. "I thought you were a decent man. I....I can't believe Marisse's wild assumptions could be true." She appeared to be fighting tears. "I...helped a criminal."

  
  


Marth looked at her, both concern and annoyance in his expression. "Would you please let me explain?"

  
  


"Trying to justify crime? It's not going to work, so I don't want to hear it!"

  
  


"I'm not a criminal," he would have shouted if he had the strength. "You have it all wrong. I told you that you wouldn't believe me if I told you who I was. Wouldn't you at least like to know why?"

  
  


"I guess it would be fair to let you explain," Kyree answered meekly.

  
  


"I'll understand if you don't believe me, but please trust me. I did not kidnap the prince. I AM the prince." He looked at her, expecting her to laugh or scold him for making up such an outrageous lie. He added softly, "If I had some way of proving it, I would."

  
  


"Maybe there is. If those soldiers Marisse mentioned are still nearby, they might be able to determine if you're telling the truth or not. I warn you, I'm leaving now, so if you're lying, admit it now."

  
  


"If I lie, you may hit me over the head with a heavy object," he grinned. 

  
  


"If you lie, you'll be in even bigger trouble than with me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  
  


"I'm certainly not going anywhere." 

  
  


Kyree returned with three soldiers following closely. Marth heard one remark, "This guy better not be a fake. Any minute we waste could be too late."

  
  


"Back here," Kyree told them. Marth wrapped himself in the quilt, embarrassed, as he still wore only his underwear.

  
  


"I don't believe it! It's really him!" one soldier exclaimed. Bowing deeply, he asked, "My prince, are you all right? Your condition does not appear good."

  
  


"If it weren't for Kyree, I might have died," he answered.

  
  


Kyree looked embarrassed that she'd ever believed this man a criminal or liar. She dropped an awkward curtsey and stammered, "Forgive me for doubting you, Highness. Please don't be angry."

  
  


"No harm done," he assured. "If I believed everything everyone told me, I'd have been long dead. And there's no need for formality. In fact, I preferred the way you acted before I introduced myself."

"We will return to the palace with the news immediately. I assume you wish to return home?" one soldier asked.

  
  


"Not without repaying Kyree in some way."

  
  


"I am honored merely by your presence," she insisted, blushing.

  
  


"That's nonsense meant to flatter me, and we both know it. I have a better idea. Do you want to finish training as a proper healer? There happens to be a court doctor who would be pleased to take an apprentice."

  
  


Kyree was astonished. "You would do that...for me?" Her expression turned glum. "What about my brother?"

  
  


"He can stay at the palace as well. A tailor's services are frequently needed. Do you accept my offer."

  
  


Kyree was speechless. She nodded. 

  
  


"And you, Ethan?"

  
  


"Certainly."

  
  


Kyree finally found words. "I...can't thank you enough. You're so kind."

  
  


"You saved my life. It's the least I can do. Get your things together." He turned to the soldiers. "Return to the city and assure everyone I'm alive. Send a carriage for us, as my horse was stolen and I cannot walk. And please, bring me some clothes. The outfit I was wearing was destroyed."

  
  
  
  


That evening, they found themselves at the palace, comfortable and well-fed. Marth was now under the care of the royal physician and his new apprentice. Ethan had immediately set about the task of repairing Marth's damaged clothes.

  
  


Kyree sat beside the prince's bed, wanting to be there if she was needed. He slept peacefully, now clad in a warm nightshirt and burrowed under satin sheets, his wounds rebandadged. Kyree gazed at him silently, thinking of how handsome she found him. 

  
  


"No," she whispered. "That won't do. I can't become attached to him. It's....unprofessional. Besides, if I'm not good enough for a merchant's son, a prince would never have me." She reflected a moment, trying to banish her feelings, when her new master entered.

  
  


"Kyree, it's getting late. You should rest."

  
  


"But what if he wakes and needs something?"

  
  


"If that happens, his servants will tend to it." The doctor looked at his pupil kindly. "I can tell how deeply you care for others, but you must not neglect yourself, either." Run along, Kyree. If you're too tired, you cannot work properly."

  
  


She nodded, and taking one last look at the sleeping prince, headed toward her new room.

****

A/N: Now things will get interesting. I hope this was long enough.

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

A/N: (my normal pre-chapter ramblings) Another chapter. I hope to have another Prank War 2 chapter up soon as well. I thank you all for your reviews. Xan, Vallen, if you're reading this, can you find a place for this on your group webpage? Please? Oh, and I don't know exactly when this will be finished, but hopefully soon. I have two unfinished stories in the SSBM section, one in the LOZ section, and I'm planning on making a sequel to this one....about Roy!

*****

A servant awoke Kyree early the next morning. Though sleepy, she could still detect a sense of urgency in the girl's face. "Something wrong?" she asked, trying to rouse herself fully.

  
  


The servant girl nodded. "You're needed in the prince's apartments as quickly as possible. I don't really know what it's about, but it sounds serious." She looked nervously at the floor. "You will go to him, won't you?"

  
  


Fear gripped Kyree suddenly. Had his condition grown worse? "Of course. Let me get dressed." The young maid merely nodded again and left. No sooner had Kyree hurriedly dressed and pulled her auburn hair back, she practically flew through the halls, only stopping at Marth's bedside. She stopped, panting, and dropped a rushed curtsey. "I'm here, Highness," she murmured.

  
  


He smiled upon noticing her. "Kyree," he said in an almost whisper, "I already told you that wasn't necessary." 

  
  


She did not respond, but asked the doctor, who was standing nearby, "What is it?"

  
  


"The wound across his right shoulder has become infected. I received the prince's permission to let you help treat him."

  
  


"I have something in my room used for treating infections. I'll be right back." She dashed back to her room, retrieved a small wooden chest filled with herbs and potions, then hurried back to Marth. Kyree opened the chest and took out a tiny amber-colored bottle. "Should I apply it, or would that embarrass you? " she asked Marth.

  
  


"Go ahead. I couldn't care less." He closed his eyes, lying back against his pillows.

  
  


Kyree opened the neck of his nightshirt and examined the wound in question. It was one of the worst ones the prince had sustained. It ran diagonally from shoulder to chest; the dagger that had caused it had barely missed his heart. This was truly an ugly wound, now swollen and dark. Though it had already begun to heal, Kyree reopened it. She had been taught not to let an infected wound close. Marth winced in pain, but made no sound. Kyree dabbed at the now-open wound with a damp cloth, removing the pus and dried blood. It was an unpleasant sight, but she'd been trained not to be disgusted by anything she might encounter while healing patients. She dripped a bit of the bottle's contents onto the wound, then gently rubbed it in. Marth gripped her free arm tightly, but remained silent. Glancing at the doctor, Kyree saw him nod at her in approval, a wordless way of saying "Keep going, you're doing the right thing." Once she'd rebandaged the wound, the doctor spoke.

  
  


"Your training up to this point appears to be even better than I thought. Excellent work." 

  
  


Kyree beamed at this praise. Turning to Marth, she asked, "Is anything else troubling you, Prince Marth?"

  
  


"Just 'Marth'," he replied. "And no, nothing that I know of." 

  
  


"Your skin feels unnaturally warm. I think you have a fever." Kyree pressed her hand to his forehead. "Far too warm," she remarked, mostly to herself. She watched the doctor repeat what she had done.

  
  


"Fever," he said simply in agreement. He then proceeded to dose Marth with an odd-smelling medicine that caused him to make a repulsed face and apply a cool, wet cloth to his forehead.

  
  


"Thank you," Marth whispered. "I have no further need for you at the moment. If she isn't doing anything important, though, Kyree may stay if she wishes."

  
  


The doctor grinned. "I understand. I'd hardly expect you to prefer my company to that of a pretty young lady." With that remark, he exited.

  
  


Marth smiled at a blushing Kyree. "He's right. You're very pretty."

  
  


"Thank you," she replied, wondering if it was only feverish nonsense or, as she hoped, he truly meant it. "Do you want me to sit here with you?"

  
  


"Please. I would appreciate your company." He peered into her face. She seemed so honest, so caring, like someone he could tell his deepest secrets to. Perhaps it was time he let out all that had been gnawing at his soul for so long. "Kyree, can I speak to you in strictest confidence? So much has been bothering me, but I feel I would be ridiculed if I revealed everything."

  
  


"I will not repeat anything you do not want me to," she assured. "What's troubling you?"

  
  


"In spite of all that's happened, I've tried to appear strong, but the truth is, I'm aching inside. Keeping it to myself is only making it worse."

  
  


"If you know it would make you feel better, why didn't you talk to someone?"

  
  


"Kyree, everyone looks to me to be strong and in control. If the people knew how helpless I felt, they might lose hope. I'm living only for Altea now. Besides, I was never allowed to show emotion, from an early age. I was severely reprimanded by my father every time he thought I hadn't restrained my feelings. I began to try to all feelings from coming. Even now, that almost never works, so I keep them to myself. It's not that I care so much about my dignity as others do at this point. It's become a habit now, I've done it so much. Besides, I don't want to burden anyone with my despair. Things are bad enough already." He paused, breathing deeply.

  
  


"Do you feel better confessing that much?"

  
  


"A bit. Nothing could ever take away what I've been through, though. Everyone and everything I've ever loved has been taken from me. Day after day, I watch my people suffer, and no matter what I do, it's never enough. Memories haunt me hour after hour. I'll probably never know joy again. Sometimes I've felt so hopeless I wanted nothing more than to die. To make it worse, I can't tell anyone....I can't even cry unless I'm sure I'm alone..." He tried to stop a choked sob, but it came out anyway. He began crying, no longer caring who was watching.

  
  


Kyree shushed him, wiping the tears from his face. "It's all right. You can cry all you need to. I understand. It's better to let your feelings out every now and then. Even a prince should be allowed to cry." She smoothed his hair. "Try not to get too excited, though," she instructed. "It won't do your health any good."

  
  


"Please don't mention this to anyone. Promise?"

  
  


"I promise," she said softly. Marth looked more at ease with that, and he closed his eyes once more. He gently took Kyree's hand in his, then pressed it to his cheek. 

  
  


"Will you stay, even if I go to sleep?" he asked, fatigue obvious in his voice.

  
  


"Unless I'm needed elsewhere, yes," she assured. Within minutes, Marth fell into an exhausted sleep. Too much emotion at once had apparently taken its toll on the weakened prince.

  
  


Perhaps a half hour later, the doctor returned. Seeing the prince sleeping, he turned to leave once again, but Kyree stopped him. "You don't think he's...going to die, do you?" she asked, barely able to express the fear she'd had since she woke.

  
  


"If his wounds do not worsen and the fever goes down, he should live. All we can do now is wait and hope. I will be back after a little while, but if you need me, by all means send for me." He left once more, leaving Kyree alone with Marth. 

  
  


She lifted the arm he'd left dangling off the bed. Placing it by his side, she gently stroked the back of Marth's hand before letting go. Changing her mind, she took it in hers again, feeling the strong yet soft fingers and hoping she was comforting him even as he slept. "Please live, for Altea....and for me," she whispered, wishing with all her heart for the well-being of the man who had quickly become so dear to her.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: 'nother chapter from me, your resident hyperactive idiot. I'm finally going to do what I've been planning for a long time with this fic! Yay! I also want to illustrate, but guess who can't draw? Anyone else in Xan and Vallen's group who can help?

  
  


******

  
  


Kyree remained with Marth most of that day. The next morning, when she went to check on him, she saw her master, the doctor, standing outside the door to Marth's room. He saw her and smiled broadly.

  
  


"The prince's fever broke last night. He's doing much better now, and I can say with quite some certainty that he will survive."

  
  


Kyree's worry vanished and was replaced with joy. "That's wonderful!" she cried.

  
  


Knowing what she would say next, the doctor interrupted, "Yes, you may go see him now. In fact, he seemed anxious to see you this morning." 

  
  


Kyree said nothing more and entered the room. Marth was sitting up in bed, propped against several pillows and wrapped in silk robe. His expression brightened upon seeing her. "I hear you're feeling better," Kyree commented.

  
  


"Yes, I'm still a bit weak, but doing much better than before. You have no idea how much I want to get up and walk around. I hope I recover quicky. I'm sick of being stuck in bed."

  
  


"I don't blame you for being restless," Kyree agreed. "What do you want to do first when you're strong enough to walk again? I'd want to go outside and get some fresh air."

  
  


"Exactly how I feel. Kyree, when I'm well again, would you like me to show you the gardens, or what's left of them, anyway?"

  
  


"I would love that!" she responded enthusiastically. "I love flowers. What do you mean by 'what's left of them,' though?"

  
  


"You apparently haven't looked around the castle grounds. Nearly everything is burned, or smashed, or overrun by weeds."

  
  


"Weeds? You know, what some consider weeds actually have medical uses."

  
  


"Take all the weeds you want," he laughed. "There's only one gardener now, and a lazy one at that. You'd be doing everyone a favor in more ways than one. In fact, you can pull up anything that could be used for healing, even the roses if you want!"

  
  


"You say most of the gardens have nothing planted there? Would it be all right if I planted some herbs?"

  
  


Marth nodded. "And flowers if you like, or even vegetables." This gave him an idea. "Maybe we could grow extra food for the hungry people in the city?"

  
  


"That sounds excellent!" Kyree cried, excited. "If farmers are replanting their fields, surely we could replant a garden."

  
  


"There's just one problem-I know nothing about gardening."

  
  


"Don't worry, I'll show you. It's easy," Kyree assured. She grinned. "Now you have to heal twice as fast so we can get started!"

  
  


"If I could, believe me, I'd magically make all my wounds disappear right now!" 

  
  


"That might not be possible, but I could magically make myself a cat right now," Kyree commented.

  
  


"A cat? What would you do that for?" Marth inquired. "Did you see a rat?"

  
  


"No, but I think it would be fun anyway." Kyree shimmered for an instant, then before the prince knew what happened, a fluffy gray cat had jumped onto his mattress.

  
  


Marth was shocked. "Kyree? I thought you were only being silly. That cat is really you?"

  
  


The cat seemed to nod and answered, "Mroooowr."

  
  


"Kyree, you're....a shapeshifter?"

  
  


She transformed back to her normal self. "I guess I didn't mention it before, did I?"

  
  


"No, you didn't, but that doesn't matter. Is that how you carried me to your house? What did you change into to do that?"

  
  


"A horse. It wasn't that easy to lift you with only horse's teeth."

  
  


"Ah," he smiled. "Now it all makes sense. Now, would you please get off my bed before someone comes in and gets the wrong impression?"

  
  


She hopped off, almost stepping on Bria. "Sorry, dog," she said, patting Bria's head.

  
  


"Good thing the dog didn't notice you in cat form," Marth smirked. "Bria doesn't like them unless they're dinner."

  
  


Kyree giggled, then turned serious. "I saw some people roasting a cat once, right after the war. They were starving and it was all they could find."

  
  


Marth groaned at the mention of war. "If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I never want to see another war in my life."

  
  


"That makes two of us, plus the rest of Altea," Kyree commented. "I hate seeing people die. I served as a nurse to wounded soldiers, and I saw more sickness, injury, and death than I have before or since."

  
  


"I never want to see another person die, either," Marth said. "Battles were bad enough, but...." His tone softened. "....Nadia died in my arms. That was the last death I saw, and the worst." 

  
  


"She died in your arms? That's horrible!" Kyree blurted, suddenly wanting to hold Marth tightly and comfort him.

  
  


"Yes. When I received word that she'd been attacked, I rushed to her home immediately. She survived long enough for me to see her one last time, but her wounds were still fatal...." He trailed off, fighting sobs. "Kyree, help me. I....I think I'm going to start crying, but I mustn't!"

  
  


"I already told you it's all right if you cry. I'm not going to say anything, and I still think you should be allowed to cry. I swear, you're as bad as my brother! He acts like he's over our parents' deaths, but I've seen him crying. He even said he'd give his other foot, both legs, and both arms to see even one of them alive again."

  
  


"I feel the same way. I'd give anything to have my family back, even though my father and I never quite saw eye to eye. If only I had settled our disagreements before he died...." Marth looked even more likely to cry now.

  
  


Sensing the subject should be changed, Kyree asked, "Speaking of your father, after his death, why were you never made king? I always found that odd."

  
  


"My father was, for some reason, worried I'd never marry. He passed a decree stating I couldn't become king until I married. Of course, it doesn't matter to me as much as he thought it would. I'm performing many of the duties of a king anyway, and I'm certainly in no shape to marry any time soon."

  
  


"The things parents do seem strange sometimes," Kyree murmured, then commented, "It hurts now, but maybe one day we will both remember only the pleasant things about our loved ones."

  
  


Marth merely replied, "I hope so Kyree, I truly hope so."

  
  


Things continued to be this way for about a week. Kyree visited Marth several times a day, and they talked about whatever came to mind and shared stories about their pasts. They had become fast friends.

  
  


One morning, Kyree was surprised with a knock at her bedroom door. To her delight as well as surprise, it was Marth, out of bed and fully dressed. 

He smiled at Kyree. "Good morning, Kyree. I've finally been allowed out of bed. You do remember that walk in the garden I promised, don't you?"

  
  


She beamed. "Of course." She followed him through the halls, down several flights of stairs, and outside.

  
  


"This way," Marth instructed, gesturing to their left. " But please, don't walk too fast. I'm not completely recovered yet." He offered his arm, and she accepted. They began ambling slowly, Kyree allowing Marth to lead her around the castle grounds. She listened intently to everything he told her.

  
  


After a bit, they reached a fairly well-preserved part of the garden. Looking around, Kyree noticed several rosebushes, a bench, and a child's swing. Something in Marth's expression told her he was especially fond of this part of the garden.

  
  


Marth interrupted her thoughts by saying, "This is for you." He had picked a rose blossom and presented it to her.

  
  


Kyree accepted, blushing. "It's lovely. Thank you." She pressed the red flower to her nose, inhaling deeply. "It smells divine." Marth gently took the rose and placed it behind her ear.

  
  


"Now you look divine," he grinned. He then headed toward the bench and sat down, beckoning for Kyree to join him. Once she'd sat beside him, Marth took a deep breath. "Kyree, I can't thank you enough. You've done more for me than you could ever imagine. You not only saved my life, but you've done something I didn't think possible: you made me happy, even if it doesn't last. I don't have many friends, after all."

  
  


"Oh, Marth," she sighed, for the first time addressing him by his first name. "You've done so much for me, too. You gave my brother and I an opportunity for a better life. As if that wasn't enough to make me grateful, you showed me that maybe not all men were going to treat me poorly."

  
  


"So, does this mean we're even?"

  
  


A slow smile crept across her face. "We're even."

  
  


To Kyree's surprise, Marth wrapped her in a tight embrace. To Marth's even greater surprise, she returned it and rested her head against his shoulder. Their eyes met in silent communication. Marth placed a hand under Kyree's chin, tilting it upward toward his face and, without words, asked her permission before doing what he intended. Kyree gave her unspoken approval, and Marth pressed his lips to hers. Kyree returned the kiss, clinging to him tightly. Their kiss turned passionate and didn't end until they were both out of breath. Kyree remained snuggled against Marth, and the two sat in silence, content to savor each other's company.

  
  
  
  


****

Hope that was long enough, and sweet as well. I know, I know, you would rather have Marth kiss Roy, but that's been done a lot lately, and while I do enjoy a well-written yaoi, I decided to do something different. I may get around to real yaoi one day, but until then, you'll have to settle for this, Link/Zelda romance, and maybe Koryth doing something else he shouldn't.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: If anyone considers this a Mary Sue, let me know so I can do something about it. I don't do Mary Sues.

****

To Marth's bewilderment, he found Kyree giving him a puzzled stare. "Did you...did we....did that just happen?" she stammered.

  
  


"You mean did I just kiss you? It appears that way, doesn't it?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

  
  


"But did you mean it?"

  
  


"What do you mean by that?" He appeared confused.

  
  


"Did you intend to kiss me, or were you just overcome by emotion?"

  
  


"I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't mean it." By now, Marth was beginning to become annoyed. 

  
  


"I guess what I'm trying to say is, do you care about me or did you just feel like kissing someone?"

  
  


"You think I pass out kisses for no reason? I thought your opinion of me was a little higher than that." His expression and voice softened. "I do care for you, truly. Maybe it's not love, at least not yet, but I do feel something."

  
  


"I wish I could believe you, but Jeron told me he cared about me and look what he did!" Her eyes began to water, but she regained control of herself and stated, "I think you've had enough for today. You're getting cranky."

  
  


"Kyree, what's gotten into you? You've never snapped at me before. If I knew you were going to act like this, maybe I wouldn't have kissed you!"

  
  


Kyree was shocked by his harsh words. She stood speechless, mouth hanging slightly open. She couldn't find the right words to express how she felt. Instead, she retorted, "You're the one who's always so negative. Why is that? A few days ago, you and I both thought planting a garden to feed the hungry people was an excellent idea, but yesterday you said it probably wouldn't work. Why can't you give anything a chance? Changes don't always happen overnight. 

You need to learn some patience!" Shocked at what she'd just said, Kyree added shakily, "I...I think I need to be alone right now." With that, she dashed back toward the castle, leaving a speechless Marth standing in the garden.

  
  


Marth couldn't believe the gentle, soft-spoken Kyree had snapped at him. No one had ever dared talk back to him. It just was just not done. He honestly didn't know how to react. With a shrug, he decided to let Kyree cool down and speak with her later.

****

That afternoon, Marth tapped on Kyree's door. After hearing a muffled "Come in" from the other side, he opened it cautiously and stood in the doorway. Kyree sat at a table, mixing something in a bowl. Marth cleared his throat and addressed her quitely.

  
  


"Kyree, may I come in?"

  
  


"Even if I told you 'no,' there would be nothing I could do to stop you from doing as you please. It's your castle, after all," she stated, with no emotion in her voice.

  
  


Marth cautiously approached her. "Kyree..."he began hesitantly, "I'm sorry...about this morning. I didn't mean what I said about maybe I shouldn't have kissed you, and I certainly didn't want to upset you."

  
  


Kyree smiled gently and stood to face him. "It's me who should apologize. You tried to show affection, and I got defensive and insulted you. I guess I'm not completely healed after what Jeron did to me. Still, I shouldn't have said those things about you being negative and impatient. After all you've been through, who wouldn't be depressed? You've been hurt as much as I have, maybe more. I'm sorry," she murmured softly, staring at the floor in shame.

  
  


Marth placed a hand on her shoulder, and to his surprise, she did not jump back or shy away. "You did make some good points, though. Change does take time, and maybe I haven't been giving anyone or anything a chance. It seems to me like we're both at fault." 

  
  


Kyree looked at him, wide-eyed. "So..can we put this little disagreement behind us?"

  
  


Marth winked at her. "I do believe we can." He gathered Kyree in his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek. They were distracted, however, by a servant speeding down the hallway. When he saw Marth, he stopped.

  
  


"Prince Marth, there you are!" the servant panted. "There's someone at the gate to see you. I ran here as fast as I could. From what I gather, this is a very strange situation indeed."

  
  


"I'll go see what this is about. Kyree, you can tag along if you wish. She merely nodded and followed him out the door.

  
  


At the gate, they saw a lone figure had been stopped by the guards. A young woman, wrapped in a shabby cloak, was apparently arguing with them. "What's the trouble?" Marth asked, eying the woman. 

  
  


She turned toward him and studied him a moment, then spoke. "Marth, is that really you?" she asked in an incredulous whisper.

  
  


Marth gazed back into her face in disbelief. "Ellis? No, it can't be. You're dead!"

***

Hehehe, how's that for a cliffhanger? You'll have to wait to find out if that's the real Ellis or some sort of trick. And I thought a little fight between Marth and Kyree might make things interesting.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Finally got around to updating. I don't know when I'll get around to updating the rest of my fanfics, though.

****

"Don't you recognize me?" the woman who claimed to be Princess Ellis whispered, voice trembling.

  
  


"You do look like my sister, but you just can't be. Ellis is dead. I wish I could believe you," Marth said sadly.

  
  


"Should we kick her out, or throw her in the dungeon?" one of the guards asked.

  
  


Ellis looked alarmed. "Please, just let me tell my story. It will all make sense if you listen. I know you think I'm dead, and this whole situation seems bizarre, but I beg you, hear me out." She gazed pleadingly at Marth.

  
  


"All right, I suppose you at least deserve to explain yourself," Marth agreed, not knowing if he said this because he was curious what this girl was up to or if he somehow truly believed this was his sister.

  
  


" You think I died in an enemy prison, correct?"

  
  


"Everyone in Altea knows that," Marth replied, with a bit of impatience.

  
  


"Everyone in Altea has been lied to."

  
  


Marth looked at her, puzzled. "I just don't understand how you expect me to believe you."

  
  


"Did you ever see 'my' body after I 'died'?"

  
  


Marth thought for a moment. "No, it was already sealed inside a coffin by the time it was recovered and sent home for burial."

  
  


Ellis sighed sadly. "I was sincerely hoping no one would fall for that fiendish trick."

  
  


"What fiendish trick?" Marth asked, confused as well as suspicious.

  
  


"When I was imprisoned," Ellis began, "I was originally supposed to be executed as a prisoner of war. However, my captors decided they could profit more by faking my death and selling me into slavery. The coffin buried in our family's tomb actually contains a prisoner who died of starvation. The other prisoners were forced to send a body back and claim it was mine. If you opened the tomb and coffin, you would find something completely unexpected."

  
  


Marth considered her story, then spoke. "If you truly are Ellis, I have no reason to doubt you are telling the truth."

  
  


Kyree, who had remained silent until then, said softly, "She is."

  
  


"Kyree, how can you tell?" Marth asked, completely baffled.

  
  


She smiled. "Not only can I alter my own form, I can tell if someone else is not using his or her true form. This is really your sister, strange as it may seem." She curtseyed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess."

  
  


"Ellis hates formality almost as much as I do," Marth chuckled. He enveloped his older sister in a huge bearhug. "I can't believe you're alive," he murmured. "Where have you been since the war ended?"

  
  


"After Altea was victorious, the prisoners and slaves were freed, as you know. I've spent over a year journeying home. At first, I tried to explain my situation, but no one believed me. I had to find my way back here with very little help. It hurt to receive such a critical reception, but I can't blame you. You thought I was dead, just like everyone else, but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm just so glad to be home. I thought I'd never see you again, little brother!" Tears trickled down her cheeks. Kyree could see that Marth also had joyful tears in his eyes. 

  
  


Marth continued, "Ellis, you said you were enslaved? Were you mistreated at all? Tell me what happened? If anyone touched you, I'll kill the bastard!"

  
  


"The man who called himself my master tried to force himself on me, but one blast of magical energy taught him a lesson he never forgot. I was severely beaten for that, but he never tried anything like that again. In fact, I think he was afraid of me."

  
  


Marth grinned. "I would have expected no less from you." Glancing at her ragged appearance, he added, "Come inside. Why don't you rest, eat, and get cleaned up? Your apartments have been untouched, except for an occasional cleaning. Just wait until everyone hears the wonderful news!"

****

Short chapter, but I should have more soon, very soon. Next chapter should have more of Koryth.

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

A/N: How many months has it been since an update? I have no idea, and I'm sorry. I'm bad. I still have other fanfics, too. Oh, man, am I lazy! Hmm, how about some more (mild) shounen-ai implications? Will that make it up to you? I can't promise it for this chapter, but maybe the next if I don't.

Disclaimer update: Marth, Ellis, and Jeigan are Fire Emblem characters. I'm just borrowing them for this fanfic.

*****

After Ellis arrived home safely, the mood at the castle became noticeably lighter. By the next afternoon, a banquet had been planned to celebrate her return. Even Marth looked happy, smiling more than anyone had seen since the war. Now, he was practicing swordplay with one of his knights.

"Are you sure you feel up to this?" Kyree called to him from the place she'd picked to plant her garden.

"I'm fine! Don't worry about me. I might even have the strength to help you train later on," he responded, unsheathing his sword.

"Not today, thank you. I'm busy with these cursed weeds!" Marth nodded to her comment and began his mock duel. Kyree couldn't help but be distracted from her weed-yanking. He was the most magnificent swordsman she'd ever seen, even though he'd surely not practiced in quite some time. The metallic clang of steel meeting steel rang in her ears, thrilling her thoroughly. More than once, she nearly jumped. 

Surprisingly, she felt little fear that Marth would be hurt. Even a beginner at swordplay could tell Marth's skill was far superior to that of his opponent. Nevertheless, each strike, each parry, caused her to gasp inwardly. The fight might have been one-sided, but Kyree something about it still excited Kyree. 

When Marth succeeded in disarming his opponent, he gave his friend an encouraging slap on the back. "You're improving, there's no doubt about that, but your response time is still slow. If this had been a real fight, you'd likely be dead." The other man nodded and headed off. Meanwhile, Marth approached Kyree. "What happened to weed disposal?" he grinned. "You're sitting there with your mouth wide open."

Kyree flushed slightly. "I'm sorry. I was just so impressed by your fighting technique that I....I guess couldn't help myself."

"No harm done," Marth reassured. "By the way, Kyree, there's a banquet tonight. I would be pleased to see you there."

"I know about it, but I don't think I should go. I don't think I would fit in with the other guests, and besides, I have nothing appropriate to wear."

"Nonsense. You're such a sweet woman, who couldn't like you? As for clothing, I'm sure we can find something. Please come. I wish to recognize you publicly for all you've done for me." His eyes betrayed a sincere expression of hopefulness.

Kyree sighed. "I would like to attend, so if it means that much to you, I will. But please, don't make a show about me saving your life. I don't want the attention."

"Wonderful! I'm so glad you agreed. Tell your brother he's invited as well. I think we should both go inside and get ready." As he turned away, Marth added, "Save a dance for me."

Once inside, Kyree met Ellis in the hall. "Ah, Kyree, I've been looking for you," the princess said warmly. "My brother told me how good you've been to him, and I wanted to thank you." She pulled a small emerald pendant from her pocket. "Take this as a token of my friendship. I think it would go nicely with your eyes."

Kyree was nearly speechless. "Thank you, Princess. You are very kind," she murmured.

Ellis smiled at her kindly. "You're more than welcome. And please, call me Ellis."

_______

That evening, a lively party was underway in the castle's dining hall. Though it was nowhere near as grand as royal banquets of the past, no one minded. The joyful atmosphere more than made up for the comparative simplicity.

Marth was behaving more like his old self. Seated between Kyree and Ellis, he was laughing, talking, and mocking his stuffier guests behind their backs as if he'd never been depressed at all. Throughout the meal, Kyree felt someone's leg rubbing against her own, and she was certain it didn't belong to the fat nobleman seated across from her. Marth insisted on toasting not only to his sister, but to Kyree as well. The shy healer was somewhat embarrassed, but her mood was too cheerful to let it bother her.

As soon as they'd both finished eating, Marth tapped Kyree's shoulder. "Would you care to dance? I cannot stand another second of Jeigan's war stories." Jeigan, Marth's bodyguard, was boring everyone with uninteresting tales of army life.

Kyree's lips curled into a wide smile. "Of course. I am honored. And I agree with you, your bodyguard is about to put me to sleep." 

Marth led a Kyree to the dance floor, both of them beaming. "You look lovely this evening," he complimented, kissing her hand. Kyree indeed looked radiant in green silk and her newly acquired necklace. Both flattered her green eyes and auburn hair. 

"Thank you," she blushed. "You appear even more handsome than usual yourself."

Before Marth could respond, the music began, so he wrapped an arm around Kyree's waist. Just as the dancing began, Kyree confessed,"There's a bit of a problem. I can't dance."

"It's easy," Marth assured. "Just follow my lead and act like you know what you're doing. No one will notice."

As the dance went on, the two said little. The more they stared into each other's eyes, the more the attraction grew. Marth could scarcely believe this was happening. Not long ago, he would have thought it impossible he would ever love again, yet it seemed he was well on his way.

Kyree had to constantly remind herself she wasn't dreaming and that this man truly cared for her.

When the dance ended, their trancelike state faded with it. Kyree excused herself, wanting to rest. She sat down in a convenient chair to catch her breath, surveying the scene. Marth's valets, Koryth and Shondar, were apparently drunk and singing rather loudly. An older couple was arguing about something, and Marth now danced with Ellis. A snippet of conversation among several nearby ladies caught her attention. 

"I don't know where she came from, but she's certainly of low breeding," one of them commented.

"He says she's apprenticed to the royal physician, but I don't believe it," replied another. Shock hit Kyree like a heart attack. They were talking about her!

"I've seen her around, so it might be true," a third woman added. "Yet, she certainly didn't seem to be working. What is she really doing here?"

"Whether or not that's true, I think there's another reason for her presence," said the first. "It's been quite some time since Prince Marth had any female company. Perhaps he brought her here for...pleasure purposes."

Kyree gasped. Had this woman just suggested that....?

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it. It's his business, not ours. He'll tire of her and send her away, I'm certain. That's how it often works with whores."

"Yes, yes, of course. What else could she be but the prince's whore?"

Kyree let out an involuntary cry. Did these women not know she could hear them, or did they not care? They had called her a whore right in front of her!

One of the women smirked maliciously. "Ah, Kyree is it? Good evening," she said with false kindness.

"Why don't you run along, now, dear?" asked another, an equally false smile on her face. "I'm sure the prince requires your company tonight. Why not go warm his bed?" All three began cackled at this remark.

Kyree said nothing. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she fled. As she dashed off, she heard one of the ladies say, " So the little hussy can't be face with the truth, can she? Unless that fool of a girl thinks he actually cares about her."

Kyree didn't stop until she reached the gardens. Practically throwing herself on a bench, she began sobbing hysterically. Why had she agreed to go to this banquet? She should have known these aristocrats would never accept her. But to accuse her of being a prostitute? That was far worse than she imagined.

How long she cried, Kyree didn't know. A voice caused her to raise her head. "Kyree, is that you?" It was Marth. 

"Marth? Yes, it's me."

"Kyree, why are you out here? I've been looking all over for you. I wanted to dance with you again, but couldn't find you."

She tried to respond, but only succeeded in bursting into more tears.

Marth sat beside her on the bench, placing a hand on her shoulder. Though it wasn't visible in the twilight, he wore a look of extreme concern. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"T-they said....they...c-called me a..." she stammered between sobs.

"Who?"

"Those ladies...called me a..." she began weeping even more.

"What ladies? What did they call you?" Marth asked.

"I don't know," she said, trying to fight her tears. "A whore. They said you only brought me here to use for your pleasure."

"They accused you of being a whore?" Marth spat disgustedly. "Kyree, surely you don't think my intentions for you were so dishonorable?"

"No, I think better of you than that. But still....right in front of me...I knew I'd never belong among such high-ranking people, but did why were they so cruel?"

"If it's the little group I suspect it is, the reason is because that's the way they are. Tell me, were you insulted by three young women, all about twenty or so?"

"Yes. One had light blond hair, another was unusually tall for a woman, and the third had a mole on her left cheek."

"I thought so. Those three are well-known for malicious gossip." He embraced her tightly, dabbing her tears with a handkerchief. "I'll speak with them, though this won't be the first time I've confronted them about nasty rumors. But as for everyone else, were they not pleasant to you?"

Kyree nodded, pressing as close to Marth as she could.

"Good. Then don't give this another thought. If you don't want to rejoin the celebration, I understand. You are excused." He kissed her tenderly. "Now, do you think you can smile for me, just once?"

Kyree gave him a slightly lopsided grin. "I think so." 

____

Late that night, if anyone was not in bed, they might have seen Koryth wandering the halls. Whether it was his recent confused emotions or something else, he was not sure. Whatever the cause, he had resumed his bad childhood habit of sleepwalking. The first few nights it happened, Koryth did not leave his own room. Tonight was different, perhaps due to the alcohol. He traversed this familiar portion of the castle as easily as if he were awake. Had he awakened, Koryth would have found himself in Marth's chambers. He wandered the rooms, fumbling about in his sleep. Possibly subconsciously, he found himself beside Marth's bed within minutes. He proceeded to climb up and snuggle close to the sleeping prince. He wrapped his arms around Marth's waist, head resting against the prince's chest. Koryth let out a contented sigh, still not waking.

The next morning, Marth awoke to a strange sight. Someone was in his bed, cuddling him like a child's toy. "What the hell...?!" he yelled, finding himself face to face with an equally surprised-looking Koryth.

________

Nyah, I'm leaving it here. Cliffhanger! Cliffhanger! Aren't I evil?


End file.
